


Graffiti

by ughdotcom



Series: Graffiti [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Don't copy to another site, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Graffiti, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Illegal Activities, M/M, Making Out, Misgendering, Nonbinary Character, On Hiatus, Swearing, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-09-18 21:44:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20319988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ughdotcom/pseuds/ughdotcom
Summary: Virgil Sanders has a crush. And he doesn't even know their name. It's no fluffy Love, Simon scenario either. You see, Virgil is graffiti-ing the city with the help of his partner in crime Prince under the name Anxiety. And that's not all he has going on. He also has to deal with high school, being trans, and having piece of shit parents. And Roman Santos. Oh god Roman Santos. The bane of Virgil's existence, his archenemy, even if he is one of the only people who doesn't misgender Virgil.A chaptered rewrite of my fic Graffiti, but that's pretty good too, so read that if you want the short version of this.





	1. Chapter 1

“I didn’t sign up for my daughter to be a tr*nny and a f*gg*t!” Virgil’s dad, Mr. White said, holding a knife.

“We didn’t raise you this way, Violet.” Mrs. White said, casually sitting at the table as her husband threatened their child with a knife.

“Please.” Virgil muttered, his back against the wall, curled in a ball.

“Speak up, Violet!” Mr. White shook his knife. But Virgil couldn’t say anything as his breathing quickened, his nails digging into his legs. “Say something, freak!” Mr. White yelled at the boy, his  _ child _ .

Blood. Why was there blood? Why was there pain? Shit, why was there pain? Someone was screaming. Who was screaming? It was him. He was screaming? Why was he screaming? Oh right, the blood. And the pain. Lots of pain. Were the pain and the blood connected? Virgil lifted his hand to his mouth. As his fingers made contact he screamed more.

There was a gash across his mouth. Why the fuck was there a gash across his mouth? The knife. The knife his dad was holding. His brain screamed at him.  _ Run, Virgil, run! _ So he did. He pushed himself up and ran out of the house, getting on the motorcycle he had received a small part of his brain scolded him for leaving. His parents had given him this nice motorbike after all. He silenced the part of his brain:  _ They just fucking stabbed me _ . The part of his brain that sounded like his friend Logan responded with  _ well, slashed more like _ . “Shut up” he said out loud as he sped down the highway.

A knock sounded on the door of Patton Sanders and Logan Wright’s small house. Patton pecked his boyfriend on the lips before answering the door. “Virgil!” he exclaimed “What happened?”

Virgil shook his head to signal he didn’t want to talk at all, before collapsing on the step.

* * *

Virgil woke up with a jolt, his dream about his parents back. A strangled scream was just caught in his throat. He sighed, pulling his hoodie. “Virgil Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Virgil Sanders.” he repeated to himself, but it did nothing to help. He sighed and checked his phone. 1:00 am. Great. He got out of bed, grabbing a pad and heading to the bathroom. After putting the pad on, he went down into the kitchen to get some advil.

He didn’t feel good, if he had to explain his feelings in anyway, those would be the words. “I don’t feel good.” he murmured to the dark, empty kitchen, before scoffing. “That’s an understatement.” he swallowed the advil and sighed. There was no way he was sleeping now.

He walked upstairs, retrieving his bag of spray paint from where it was stored under his bed. It was the only thing he hid from Patton and Logan, knowing they would strongly disapprove of him doing anything illegal, such as graffiti. He took off his normal hoodie, the one with the purple patches, and put on his old grey and black one. He pulled a mask over his mouth, an edgy one with the bottom of a skull.

He pulled on his converse and darted out the front door, breathing in the outside air. Sweet, sweet, exhaust smell. He could tell that Logan’s parents gave him the worst house out of their lot. But at least it wasn’t stuffy. He grabbed his bike, the black one (yes he had two), and sped off to an abandoned lot.

He shook the black paint, a nice contrast to the weird white paint of the old building. He started writing.

“You know that’s illegal.” said a voice from behind him, making Virgil jump and screwing up the G.

“I’m aware.” Virgil said, turning around to face the offending voice.

“You took my spot.”

“I got here first loser.”

“I can see that. What’s your name?”

“How do I know you won’t tell on me?”

“Good point. So fake names?”

“Whatever. I’ll be Anxiety.”

“Prince.” Prince said, laying his hand on his forehead dramatically.

“You’re weird.” Virgil said, turning to finish the word “rights”

“Yep.” Prince said, popping the P. “Pronouns?”

“He/him.”

“Cool.” Prince said, leaning against the wall.

“You?” Virgil said, capping the paint.

“He/him as well.”

“Ok. What were you going to make?”

“Well, nothing as activist as ‘trans rights’, more like a rainbow. ‘Cause I just came out.”

“As what.”

“I’m gay as fuck, babey.”

“Cool. I’m pan, but to my parents that just means f*gg*t.” Virgil let out a humorless laugh. “You ever actually graffitied anything before?”

Prince looked ashamed. “No.”

Virgil scoffed. “I’ll help, amateur.”

“Excuse me,  _ cabrón _ , I’m no amateur.”

“Sure, the person who has never done this before isn’t an amateur. Sure, Princey.”

Prince let out an offended noise before laughing. “Okay, I’m an amateur. Sue me.”

“Maybe.”

“I’m sure you need lots of money, Mr. I-Own-A-Whole-Ass-Motorcycle-And-I’m-15.”

“16.”

Prince shrugged. “Guessed. I’m 16 too.”

“Cool. No one cares.”

“I’m sure lots of people care.”

“I’m sure the girls are simply tripping over their feet to meet the prince. Let’s get to work.”

“I told you I’m gay.”

“Well, high school kids are bigoted bitches.”

“True. So help me, Mr. Anxiety.”

* * *

“Same time and place tomorrow?”

“Sure. Tomorrow, let's do some real art.”

“Sure.”

* * *

Virgil woke up with a yawn, before pulling the covers over his head. That was a weird dream. Wait. That wasn’t a dream. He actually got a partner in crime. He let out a small laugh. What the fuck.

“Kiddo!”

“I’m up, Pat.”

“Yay! I made pancakes!” Virgil smiled at his hyper-active friend. Was there ever anything Patton wasn’t doing?

He sighed and rolled back his shoulders as he got out of bed. He grabbed the closest clothes and his binder and entered the bathroom. He quickly changed and popped his purple contacts.

He didn’t know why he wore contacts. He had started one day and never stopped. It was the same with the eyeshadow he smudged under his eyes. A habit now. Something for people to stare at. He pulled on the hoodie, a similar thing. Then he walked down into the dining room.

Logan was sitting at the table reading the paper, a strange action that Logan did everyday. Patton bustled around the kitchen humming. “V, you’re up!”

“Yep. Hey, Lo.”

“Hello Virgil. I assume you’ll be taking your bike today and will not require a ride?”

“Yep.” Virgil took his plate as Patton handed it to him with a smile and took a long sip of coffee. “Another great day of being called a girl.”

“Aw, kiddo, I’m sure it won’t be that bad. And you are the manliest man out there.”

“I’m sure it will. And manliest man is built upon sexist ideals.” he said, grabbing his bag. “I’ve gotta go, love you two.”

“Love you too!”

“I love you as well.”

He got on his bike (the purple one) and sped off to school. As soon as he was there Roman Santos came up to him. “Sup, Incredible Sulk.”

“What is it, Santos?”

“I was wondering if you’d mind stopping being such a weirdo. And so short.” Roman ruffled Virgil’s purple hair.

“Fuck off.” Virgil said, dodging away from Roman. “And I’m not short!”

“Sure!” Roman scoffed, even though Virgil wasn’t. He was only a bit shorter than Roman, but he slouched. A lot.

As Roman left, Remy approached Virgil. “Sup, gurl.” unlike most ‘girl’ comments made toward Virgil, this was truly just Remy being Remy.

“Hey, Rem.”

“Wow, Roman Santos is such a dick. Anyway, I got you a tea from Starbies.”

“Thanks.” Virgil smiled at Remy.

“Anyway, Emile Picani is so goddamn cute.”

“You’ve said.”

“Shh, just let me rant.” Virgil just smiled as Remy ranted about his newest crush.


	2. Chapter 2

Virgil groaned as he got off his bike, facing Prince. “They called me a girl.”

“Wanna paint something trans-related?”

“Duh.” Virgil grinned under the mask and grabbed his paints. “What?”

“A trans symbol covered in flowers in the trans colors.”

Virgil paused for a minute “great.”

“I am an artist! I told you!”

“Sure.”

“I am! I’m just new to street art.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” he teased, elbowing Prince in the side. Prince just grinned jokingly.

* * *

Roman was gay, and it was no surprise to anyone. He was out and proud to the school, and to everyone. He was also an artist. So when this boy,  _ Anxiety _ , said he wasn’t, he was offended, but he was also somewhat turned on. It wasn’t like he was going to make a move on Anxiety, but he also was insanely glad it was dark. And it wasn’t helping that he was wearing only a tank top, and the single street light was glancing off his muscles. He had  _ muscles _ . Roman had muscles, but they looked in place on his body. Anxiety was so  _ scrawny _ but also really hot, as far as Roman could tell. He did constantly cover his mouth and hair, but everyone had quirks. Roman’s were hating Virgil Sanders and also wanting to snog Virgil Sanders (but Anxiety was  _ really _ hot). So yeah, everyone has quirks. Some were just fucking weird.

Anxiety took Roman’s hand and guided him through drawing the trans symbol. “Let it drip. We’re being artsy.” he said,  _ way _ too close to Roman’s ear. Roman wasn’t religious, but he thanked God that the moon was covered by the clouds. “Try it yourself.” Anxiety said, and when he removed his hand from Roman’s it brushed by the small of his back and fuck Roman would have to take a cold shower when he got home.

Roman wondered if Anxiety  _ knew _ what he was doing. Probably not, but Roman could imagine the smirk dancing on his lips under the mask if it was.

* * *

As a matter of fact Virgil did not know what he was doing. He was just… helping him out.

Prince really was shit at street art.

* * *

“Hey, Princey.”

“Anxiety. How odd to see you here. Do you sleep?”

“Nah, insomnia  _ and _ anxiety. And depression. My brain is fucked up.”

Prince snorted. “Mood.”

“And you?”

“Nothing.”

“Lucky. I want to make something about anxiety.”

“Uh, the sword of Damocles? Labeled ‘anxiety’? Falling onto a person?”

“Sure, why not. You’re good at ideas. You also read?! I’m surprised.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, I also said something nice!”

Prince grinned at Anxiety, and Anxiety grinned back, although no one could tell.

“So we could do word art, like the word anxiety in a sword shape.”

“Ooh.”

* * *

Virgil collapsed into his bed with a small sigh. Slipping his headphones on, he let his thoughts wander.

* * *

They had known each other for a few months. Then the sword fell onto Virgil once more. Why?

He had a crush on Prince. Honestly, fuck.

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ ** _Fuck. _ ** ** _Fuck._ **

* * *

Not that it would be a surprise, but Roman quickly caught feelings for Anxiety.

Well fuck.

He didn’t mean for that to happen.

* * *

Thomas Sanders really wished he was in the loop. Apparently his brother Patton had a boy living in his house, a boy named Virgil. A boy with severe anxiety.

“Hey.”

Virgil waved at Thomas shyly. “Hey.”

“I’m Thomas.”

“Virgil.”

“How’d you meet Patton?”

“Study group.”

“Why are you living with him?”

“Sensitive topic.”

“Ok. Ever had a panic attack?”

“Did Patton tell you?”

“Yeah.” Thomas confessed. “He said I could teach you some coping tactics?”

* * *

“Go ahead.”

“Breath in for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. Try?”

Virgil glared at him but did it anyway.

“Nice right?”

“Yeah. Calming.”

* * *

It was gym. The worst class of the day. Honestly. What was school thinking? They were playing soccer.

Virgil  _ hated _ soccer. Mr. White had played soccer, and often tried to force Virgil to play. It brought back so many painful memories, of hits when he would play, to balls aimed at his face.

Also Virgil had to change in the girl’s locker room, with Remy’s crush Emile Picani.

Who also had a crush on Remy.

“Did he say anything about me today?” Emile said.

_ Yes _ . Virgil was wanted to scream. _ Yes, he talked about how cute you were and how much he wanted to kiss every freckle on your face and tear that dress off you _ . “Mentioned you. Said your dress was nice.”

Emile smiled and smoothed their dress, but then they frowned. “Does he think I’m a girl?”

“Remy? The person who socked a person in the face for calling you and Harley cis people who were just confused?” he said with a smirk and a small eye roll. “Does that Remy think you’re a girl?”

“Good point.”

Honestly Remy was terrible at soccer. He was terrible at all sports. Whoever invented sports must have had “torture Remy Dorma” in mind. Could Remy throw a basketball? No. Could he hit a baseball? No. Could he kick a soccer ball? No.

Emile was the goalie. Emile was the lucky one to get hit in the nose with Remy’s stray soccer ball. Emile was bleeding from their nose in the middle of the gym.

“Remy, take Jessica to the nurse.”

“It’s Emile!” Remy yelled, flipping off the coach, already running to Emile’s side.

“Thanks.” Emile said as Remy took them by the hand. As they walked out the gym (still holding hands) they said “Did anyone tell you that you’re  _ really _ cute?”

Remy’s mouth dropped.

“Shit.” Emile said, a difference from their normal innocent personality. “Did I say that out loud?”

Remy nodded dumbly.

“Fuck.”

“Can I kiss you?”

They blinked. “What?” Remy repeated his statement. “Remy, I would honestly love to, but I am covered in blood, and we should be getting to the nurse.”

“Good point.” Remy said, catching a drop of their blood before it hit their dress. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that dress.”

“I find that endearing, but I’m a little grossed out by how easily you touched my blood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had such a shit day. God. I just wanna yeet myself off a cliff or something. Honestly, thank god for fanfic.
> 
> Please leave a comment. I don't give a shit about kudos, but leave one of those too. Just........ I want praise.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey! Hey, Virgil!” Virgil spun around.

“What do you want, Roman?”

“I hate you and all, but how did you get that gash over your mouth? I’ve always wondered.”

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“Fair. I’ve also wondered…” Roman stepped forward “How it would feel if I was kissing you.”

“Back off, Santos.” he said, stepping back and to the side, away from him “I’m not going to make out with my arch nemesis.”

“I was joking, Edgar Allan Woe. Learn to take a joke.”

“Uh-huh. You  _ don’t _ have an enormous sex drive. Big enough that you’d make out with me.”

“I was  _ joking _ .”

“Sure.” Virgil walked away from him, hyperventilating with his face bright red.

* * *

“Hey.”

“Hey, Virgil! Whatcha doing here?”

“I’m getting coffee, Thomas.” Virgil said to Patton’s brother behind the counter. “Why else would I be at a coffee shop?”

“No special date?”

“Thomas, I will leap over this counter and give you a black eye.”

“I’m taking that as a no. What can I get you?”

“Uhhh the sweetest coffee that isn’t decaf.”

“Coming right up. Name for the order.”

“You know my name.”

“Name for the order.” he said again, pointing up at the sign that proclaimed  _ Give a Silly Name for 10% off _ .

Virgil sighed. “Emo Nightmare. 20% off, though.”

“Uh… no can do.”

“You’re family.”

“Am I?”

“Listen, Tomathy, you’re like a brother to me, which is weird, since your brother is like a dad to me. Can I get a bigger discount?”

“The drink is four dollars.” Virgil quirked an eyebrow. “Fine. Val, I’m giving my brother a family discount! 30% off!”

They grinned at each other -- sibling bonding.

* * *

“ Oh dear fucking god I like you I can’t like someone I don’t know the name of and I really want to kiss you but I don’t want to show you my mouth oh jesus fuck.”

Roman snorted. “Ok, nerd. I like you too. If I close my eyes, will you kiss me?”

“Ok, jock.” Roman shut his eyes, and Virgil pulled down his face mask, pecking the taller boy on the lips. He then stepped back and pulled the mask back up. “You can open them.”

Roman did, studying Anxiety’s face. “Your kiss feels weird.”

“I don’t know why.”

“Your eyes are so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve never seen grey eyes before. They’re like a fog.”

“I’m going to break up with you.”

“You would never.”

“I would never.” Roman agreed.

* * *

They were dancing around each other like stars that would one day explode. Explode due to one nosey photographer, who planned to catch the graffiti artists coating the city. They had been dating for a little less than a month when the photo was taken of them kissing underneath a finished piece of art.

The next day Patton woke up Harry with a soft and sad voice. “Hey kiddo.”

“What is it?” Virgil said sleepily.

“Logan and I were thinking you could skip school and have a day with us.”

Virgil sighed, he knew that tone of voice, he recognized the disappointment in Patton’s voice. “What did I do this time?” he asked with a yawn. Patton looked at his sadly. “No, really Patton what did I do this time?”

“We’ll talk at breakfast.” Virgil wondered if this was what having caring parents was like, the sad and disappointed voice Patton had as Virgil wondered what he had done. Making Patton sad felt worse to Virgil than when his biological parents yelled at him. He quickly pulled on a My Chemical Romance shirt and jeans and headed downstairs to see what Patton and Logan were sad about. When he sat down Logan pushed the local newspaper at him.

“Those are the graffiti artists who have been-”

“Cut the shit, Virgil,” Logan said, “we know that’s you.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Well, I mean graffiti is a felony.” Virgil said, poking at his eggs.

“Who’s the boy?”

“I don’t know his real name.” Logan and Patton’s disappointment turned to anger and shock so quickly that it gave Virgil whiplash.

“You don’t know his real name?!” Patton yelled as Logan stared at him in astonishment and alarm.

“I call him Prince.”

“Didn’t your parents ever give you a stranger danger talk?” Logan said. “That’s extremely dangerous.”

“They did give me a stranger danger talk, if you mean saying ‘go get kidnapped, we don’t want to deal with you.” Patton patte d Virgil’s hand sympathetically before continuing.

“Virgil, we love you, but as your friends, we must stop you from doing this. You may leave a note for the boy, but then we’re going to take your motorcycles.”

Virgil sighed, but nodded. It was fair, even if he was going to definitely have several panic attacks and breakdowns about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Dear amazing readers,

I'm so sorry, but Graffiti is going on hiatus. I'm so glad for you guy's support, but I have very specific obsessions, and sadly, while it had a _long_ run, Sanders Sides has tired out. It was fun while it lasted, and chances are it _will_ come back someday, so that's why this hiatus versus just ending. I love you all.

Live Long and Prosper,

Nico


End file.
